What
do you get when you put a hardworking, can-do middle-class young
woman together with an egoistical, outrageous, billionaire boss, then
throw in the worst week of disasters imaginable?

Book
1 of the 4 book series A
Long Road to Love,
named Worst Week Ever.

Trent
Lancaster spends one month without his Executive Assistant (or as his
driver refers to Carrie: 'Trent's brain, left hand, and right hand').
He's had a miserable month without her at his side and to ensure it
never happens again, he intends to marry this brilliant beauty. Only
given all the times he's threatened to fire her, he's not sure she
even likes him. However, the future of his company and his happiness
depend upon him succeeding, so Trent begins a slow one week seduction
that happens to coincide with Carrie Hanson's Worst Week Ever when
everything that can go wrong does so in hilarious form.

(Hilarious
to the reader, Carrie is not having much fun this week.)

Excerpt

Carrie
squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the thump of a body against the
limo’s hood.

“Maybe
I shouldn’t have insisted Sam take a shortcut,” Trent muttered
beneath his breath.

She
groaned softly. If her boss questioned his actions, then matters must
look grim outside. She tensed even further, expecting to hear
multiple bodies slam into the car.

Sam
braked hard, turned right, and resumed driving a billion miles an
hour. If not for the seat belts, she and Trent would’ve sailed into
the front seat, and then plastered against the door. To secure her
further, Trent protectively placed an arm around her shoulder and
pulled her against his warm chest.

She
focused on the thumping of his heart. It beat once to three of
hers. God,
how can he be so calm?

Determined
to match his bravery, she tried to raise her head, but he wouldn’t
let her.

“Just
a little longer, I hope. Sam, when do we depart this third world
country?”

“Two
more blocks, sir.”

“Thank
God. You’ve terrified poor Carrie to death.”

Instantly,
the limo’s speed dropped.

She
turned her head sideways so Sam might be able to hear her words.
“Your driving doesn’t frighten me, Sam, the neighborhood does.”

As
if on cue, a round of three loud pops sounded, followed by three
thunks into her side door. She squeaked like a mouse at the first
thunk. By the third, her body shivered in fear.

Trent’s
arms tightened around her as the limo picked up speed again. “We’re
okay,” he assured her, then his lips pressed against her temple.
His calm certainty silenced her tremors.

Having
successfully soothed her, he released his outrage upon Sam. “Why
the hell did you drive us through here?”

Sam
calmly replied as he drove the car at a billion miles an hour, taking
corners at deadly speeds. “I warned you the locals might not
welcome us.”

“Someone
just shot at us?” Trent yelled.

Sam’s
nonchalant reply sounded almost surreal. “I’m sure they didn’t
mean for you to take it personally, sir.”

Maybe
none of this is happening. Maybe I fell asleep in the traffic and my
dream has gone rogue.

Her
heart calmed and she nuzzled closer to Trent, breathing in his
masculine scent. Secure in her dream, she confessed something she
never would in real life. “You smell good.”

Trent’s
arms relaxed a bit and he chuckled. “It’s called Trent. I had the
cologne custom developed. They assessed my natural odors and then
determined the optimal combination of scents to create my unique
smell.”

She
snorted. Even in her dreams, he remained the strangest man she’d
ever met. If she had all the money in the world, she’d try to end
poverty and violence in…whatever hell they’d just driven through,
not have some custom designed perfume created so she’d smell
really, really good.